No Strings Attached
by Tsuki no Kodomo
Summary: You miss one hundred percent of the shots you never take. But some shots are really too terrifying to do anything more than think on. 1000 word drabble. BakuraRyou


No Strings Attached

You know what I hate? I hate that Ryou's such a great guy, and that people take advantage of that fact. I hate seeing him, every week, sitting staring at that damned phone actually hoping that this time that prick's actually going to call. I hate it. I hate it when the next day, he does the same damn thing, even though the phone never rings.

I hate that he's with someone to begin with. Someone who isn't me. Does that make sense? But somehow I just can't seem to muster up the courage to ask him to date me. Does _that_ make sense? Of course not. I fuckin' challenged a Pharaoh, and I can't seem to quell my fears long enough to ask the most beautiful male in the world to date me.

I'm standing right here… I'm here when he cries. I'm always here to hold him when he needs to be held; I'm always here to make him laugh, or cry, or scream and call me a pervert… if he needs it. I'm _here_! Maybe sometimes I don't always seem to be, but hell! I'm always here for him. But he doesn't see me at all, does he?

No. He sighs, fingers absently trailing over the back of the phone. He's here again, waiting for that stupid phone to ring. And I'm right here. I'm sitting right here with him. He knows I'm here, every so often he'll say something to me, but nevertheless…

Why does he always wait for that stupid phone? The guy takes him out maybe once a month. And when he does, Ryou might as well be a fuckin' ornament. He hates those parties, and those people. They don't treat him the way he should be treated; they treat him like shit. As if his self confidence needs any help in being crushed.

I want to take him away. I want to take him somewhere that I know I'd hate, but somewhere that would thrill him beyond reason - somewhere beautiful and majestic, like him. I want to sweep him off his feet, and make him love. Make him really love.

But he won't do that anymore. They've hurt him too many times. What happened to that teenager I used to call a baby, huh? The one who wore his heart on his sleeve, and had no problems pasting it onto a person… the one they damn well killed. I want him back. I want him to love…

… Me…

What would that take? Nothing I do seems to be enough for him. I'm certain I've made it horribly obvious – heck! Breakfast in bed! What other being in existence would I ever bring breakfast in bed to? … Zorc not withstanding. But that's a time long passed right now. We won't touch that topic.

But the idea is… I want him on a pedestal. I want him high above the world, where those bloody males can't reach him. Where they can't touch him, or taint him, or mar him in the least. I want to give him a forever of happiness. But he'd never accept that from me, would he?

His head sinks to his knees, and his hair covers his face. It's starting again. He's realizing that tonight, yet again, that dumbass won't call.

"Why do I do this, Bakura?" he asks, his voice weak. He's so vulnerable right now. Would he share this with anyone else? "Why do I wait here? I know he'll never call, so why do I let myself dream? Why do I bother with it all?"

"Because you're desperate?" I'd just been asking myself those same questions. How can I possibly answer that question accurately? But as his body begins to shake, I pull him closer, giving him something to cry on.

"I… I hate this…" he confides in me, his face burying itself against my chest, tears making my shirt cling to my skin. What can I do? I love it when he gets so close; I love it when I know he needs me.

"Of course you do. It's what you get for dating a dick, though," I shrug a little, fiddling with his hair. His hair's so soft, so smooth… so very unlike my own. Maybe no one else sees it, but the differences to us… they're so evident. I can't keep myself from lowering my head to sniff lightly at his hair, resting my face on his head.

"… I thought… maybe he'd be different," Ryou cries, softly. By the gods he's stunning right now. He really is desperate; desperately lonely, desperately vulnerable, desperately attractive. If I try something, I bet he'll submit to it just because he wants someone with him.

But I don't want him unless it's real. I can't do something like that to him, it'd make me no better than the pricks he dates. When did I become like this? If it had been before… I would have just taken him. I would have taken him for my own the same way I took everything else. What had changed? Where did I become so docile? What about Ryou tamed me so much?

But I can't reach him. I can't touch him. Not the way I want to. I can't hold him the way I want to, I can't love him the way I want to. And knowing that absolutely sucks like fucking hell.

"They'll never be different, Ryou, not so long as you take things at face value," I murmured into his hair. I really didn't mean to sound as tender as I did. Fuck.

"You know… I wish he was more like you," he sighs softly, the tears finally ebbing. _I wish he _was_ me._

"What, Ancient Egyptian spirits bent on world destruction?" I joke.

"You're such a tough-guy," Ryou snorts, looking up with a small smile. "I meant… here, always here with me."

"I'll always be here, Ryou. As long as you need me."

* * *

_A/N: Dedicated with love to Pork Steak the Grande, after an… interesting conversation about our preferences in music. So yes. This little one-shot is totally based on N'Sync's "No Strings Attached" with a few light references to "It's Gonna Be Me" and "This I Promise You". I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I tried some new things. (Like making the story exactly a thousand words, including the title!)_


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